


To Get Back To You

by gilligankane



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 21:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We have to get out, James.” Snow doesn’t turn from the window. “I need to get back to her.”</p>
<p>She hears him moving around and doesn’t start when a hand lands gently on her shoulder. “We will. We will get you back to her.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Get Back To You

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers, kind of, for 2x07 Child of the Moon

In a quiet corner of the Enchanted Forest, Snow finds exactly what they’re looking for. It’s rickety, rotted through, windowless and probably going to fall on them in the middle of the night, but Snow smiles brightly and turns to Red. 

“This is it. It’s perfect.”

Red eyes the shack warily, leaning in like she’s smelling it. “It’s…” She sighs. “Snow, the chicken coop at Granny’s was in better shape than this.”

It doesn’t slow Snow down. “That just means we’ll have to rebuild it. And it will really be ours.”

Red still looks hesitant, but Snow can see the growing interest in her eyes. “I suppose,” she says slowly.

Snow claps her hands together excitedly and grabs Red’s arm, pulling her close as she dares as she surveys the wooden structure in front of them. She sighs contently. “Welcome home.”

“Our cabin in the woods,” Red says, her voice just as breathless. They just look for a few more moments before Red pulls away and starts to spread her cloak out on the ground.

“What are you doing?” Snow asks. She points at the shack. “We have a cabin. In the woods.”

Red looks up at her as she creates a pillow with the hood of her cloak. “A cabin that will probably kill us. I’ll spend tonight out here. Tomorrow, we can talk about moving in.” She stares up expectantly at Snow until she sighs and brushes pine needles into a pile, clearing some dirt out of the way.

Snow lies on her back and stares up at the starless sky as it gets dark, so lost in her own thoughts that Red’s fingers lacing in her own startles her.

“Sorry,” Red whispers. Snow squeezes Red’s hand to let her know she’s not upset. “I just… I just wanted to say…”

Snow turns her head and tries to find Red’s eyes in the dark. “What?”

Red sighs quietly, like a small huff of air that sounds wolf-like in nature. “Never mind,” she says. She turns over and it isn’t long before Snow hears the soft sound of her breathing evening out. Her hand stays laced in Snow’s as Snow lets the night swallow her thoughts.

*

In the morning light, the shack is even less impressive. It has a slightly sunken-in porch and the door is hanging at an angle that prevents it from being closed and there are still no windows, but Snow has never seen anything more perfect in her entire life.

Red throws down a bushel of wood behind her and Snow changes her mind: it’s _one of_ the most perfect things she’s ever seen in her entire life.

“I think there’s a village, half a day’s journey that way,” Red informs her, pointing back the way the came. “Just off that path we didn’t take. I could…” Red looks away, her face flushing red with embarrassment. “Well, I could smell them. Hunters. They might have tools.”

Snow nods and starts to put on her cloak, her dagger hidden at her hip. “I can reach them by midday and be back before dark if I leave now.”

Red’s mouth turns down. “You’re going to leave me here alone?”

Snow chuckles. “You can take care of yourself. And it’s not too far.”

“But don’t you think both of us should go?” Red reaches for her red cloak. “You’ll need me to track them.”

Snow smiles softly, tugging on the edges of Red’s cloak. “Red. One of us has to stay here and protect our home. And this way, you can figure out a list of things we need to fix and you can boss me around later.” She smiles wider, hoping to get a reaction.

Red sighs and ducks her head. “Fine. But just this once.”

“Perfect,” Snow says, tapping her fingers against the bottom of Red’s chin. “I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

She doesn’t quite hear it, but it sounds like Red mumbles, “ _I already miss you_ ” under her breath.

Snow gets to the edge of the clearing around the cabin before she looks back over her shoulder at Red standing near the sinking porch, watching her go. She grins crookedly.

“Come home safe,” Red calls.

“On my honor,” Snow shouts back. Red makes a face but Snow continues. “It’s all I have left.”

Red shakes her head, smiling. “No. Not anymore. Now you have me.”

Snow’s grin widens until her cheeks ache and she shakes herself loose of Red’s gaze, even more eager to return and aware that she needs to leave in the first place.

*

It’s on her way back, arms and pack laden with axes and hammers, that she hears the snap of a branch behind her.

Snow turns, hand reaching for her second-favorite dagger, but she isn’t quick enough.

The last thing she sees, lying on her back and blinking helplessly up at the cloudless sky, is the helmet of the masked guard before the world around her goes dark.

*

Snow wakes up in a cell as dark as the night and as cool as winter. The floor beneath her is damp and she knows that whatever water is beneath her has sunken into her clothes, and she’ll probably catch a chill.

“You’re awake,” someone rasps from a corner. Snow scrambles back until she feels bars behind her. She hears a weary sigh. “I’m not… I won’t hurt you. What’s your name?”

“Mary,” she says, her own voice hoarse. The lie is easier this time. “Mary. Who are you?”

“My name is James.” The voice, James, sounds closer already, and as her eyes adjust, Snow can see that the voice belongs to a body of man, weak and pale. “What did you do to King George?”

Snow frowns. “King George?”

James coughs, a rough cough that leaves Snow’s throat aching in sympathy. “I heard the guard, Lancelot, say that he found you trespassing on King George’s land. And that you stole from a party of his hunter’s.”

Snow feels a flare of indignation run through her. “I did no such thing. I traded those men fairly.” Snow rubs idly at the back of her head, wincing as her fingers brush over a sensitive spot. “King George,” she says, the name finally making sense to her. “His son slayed Midas’ dragon.”

James makes a sound that sounds like a laugh. “No, I slayed the dragon. The dragon slayed the King’s son.”

Snow doesn’t say anything for a moment before she crawls across the cell to where she thinks James is, reaching out. She finds his arm first and slides her hand up it, feeling the lack of muscle definition. His shoulders are sharp under her touch and his chin juts out into her palm. His face feels gaunt and she worries that he has been here too long. His hair, long and shaggy, tells her that he has been here for some time.

“What are you doing?” he finally asks.

Snow pulls her hands away. “Trying to see you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… It’s okay,” James says, his voice cracking. A heavy silence settles over them before James clears his throat again. “What do they think you stole from them?”

“Tools. For my cabin,” Snow clarifies. A swell of panic rises in her chest. “My cabin. Red!” She gets to her feet and throws herself in what she thinks is the direction of the cell door. She grips the bars and rattles them. “Hey! I demand an audience with the King! Hey!”

She can hear James moving behind her. “They won’t come. Not until morning.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I demand an audience!” she shouts again. “No, I can’t wait until morning. I have to get home. I told Red I would be home.” She rattles the bars again.

“Who is Red?” James asks carefully.

Snow drops to the ground, her face pressed between the bars. “She’s my… she’s my friend. We found a cabin in the woods. It was to be our home. I was to come home to her.”

A thin hand finds her shoulder, scaring her for a moment before she settles under the touch. “Morning. In the morning, they’ll come.”

Snow nods, her eyes burning with tears as she lies down on the cold floor of the cell, curling into herself. Morning. In the morning, they’ll come, and she’ll go home to Red.

*

The morning comes roughly. Snow wakes up as hands pull her to her feet and she swings out, catching one in the jaw with her fist. Another hand smacks her across the face and she is blinded for a moment. Rough hands pin her arms behind her back and she goes limp in the hold as she becomes aware of the situation. The guards. The guards are here and they’re going to take her to King George and she can go home to Red.

The castle, what she sees of it, is not impressive. Not compared to the castle her father owned, or even the castle her stepmother came from. But she keeps her mouth shut and her head down and tries not to wince as the hands holding her tighten their grip.

“Kneel to King George, prisoner,” a voice booms behind her.

She kneels on reflex, her head still lowered. She had forgotten for a moment that she was a hunted woman and that King George would no doubt use her a playing card if he found out her identity. The hand behind her lifts her to her feet again.

King George is as unimpressive as his castle. A hard-faced man with white hair and a set of armor that looks too shiny to be functional, he sits on a throne too big for him. “Name yourself,” he demands.

“Mary,” she says. The simpler the better.

“Mary,” the King repeats. He stares at her for a long moment but looks away eventually. “You were found trespassing on my land.”

Snow drops to her knee, playing the apologetic. “I’m sorry, your Majesty. I am new to the land and was unaware of my crime. I apologize for my transgression.”

“You stole from my men,” he adds.

Snow resists the urge to shout. “No, your Majesty. I traded those men, fair and square. They have one of my best daggers.”

The King pauses at that but nods slowly and tips his head back. “Take her away. Back to the cell.”

“No, your Majesty,” Snow calls, trying to twist from the grip of the guard’s hands. She breaks the hold and takes off for the door.

She gets almost as far as touching the handle before someone hits her in the head from behind.

*

Snow wakes up on the floor of the cell again. It’s still daytime, so she must not have been out long. James is leaning over her, his eyes clouded with worry.

“Finally,” he breathes out. “They carried you in here like you were a strawdoll. I thought…”

She blinks hard a few times, to clear the tears in her eyes as the pain hits her. Slowly, she sits up, with James’ help, and takes a steadying breath. “He didn’t even listen to me. He just dismissed me.”

James laughs darkly. “Of course he did.” He gives her a hand sitting up and sliding back to her earlier position, back against the cars. “Lancelot, the guard with the ornate helmet. Was he there?”

Snow shakes her head, her memory of a guard in one specific helmet too hazy. James slumps to the ground and sighs heavily.

“How… How long have you been here?

James shrugs, his eyes scanning the cell. “I stopped counting the days. After I slayed the dragon, he had no use for me anymore. So I became his prisoner. I just…”

Snow twists her neck, cracking the stiff muscles. “Do you have someone to go home to?”

“I might. My mother.” James’ eyes start to well. “She might have given up on me by now. She might be even be dead.”

Snow inches across the cell, shaking her head. “No. James, we’re going to get out of here. And you’re going to get home to your mother.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“You will,” Snow vows. “Because you’re going to help me get home to Red. I need to get home to Red.”

James nods slowly, coming around to the idea. “I guess it might be easier if we both try.”

“Yes,” Snow coaxes, smiling gently. “It will be. And I will get you home to your mother. I promise. And you will help get me home to Red.”

James nods a little more assuredly now, a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before. “Your Red must be a special person, for you to consider this.”

Snow leans back against the cell bars, pulling her knees into her chest and resting her chin on top of them, making herself small. For a moment, she’s back at Granny’s, watching Red pace back and forth, her cloak billowing around her as she turns and stalks back across the small room, muttering under her breath about her grandmother and the rules she insists Red follow.

She thinks about the day she left, how she thought she would be back so much sooner. How, if she had known she wouldn’t be coming back at all…

Snow blinks and comes back to herself, nodding at James’ question.

“Yes. She is.”

*

Snow has decided that they have to bide their time. Be supplicant and exemplary prisoners and let no one grow suspicious. The guards never bother James anyway, which is a blessing, really. It seems to Snow like, before her, James was going to give up and accept defeat and a life behind bars. Now, he paces the cell when the guards aren’t around, mimicking sword drills Snow once watched her father practice. It’s rough and choppy and carries all the marks of a self-taught swordsman, but James has a princely look about him in some lights. She thinks it might be the jawline.

The guards are not bored with her, though. Not yet at least. They take turns at the beginning of their posts staring at her and kicking at her through the bars. She sees one that lingers behind, the one that James calls Lancelot, but he never tells the guards to stop. A few of the ones she remembers from the forest, some sporting bruises under their eyes, kick at her with a little more intent, but she does not take the bait.

Snow has decided to bide her time, to wait for the perfect moment to strike, and she won’t waste it because the metal-toed boot of a vengeful guard catches her in the side.

“Mary, tell me about Red.” James is up and working on his sword skills again. He dances from one end of the cell to the other.

Snow sits back, her alias still foreign to her ears. It’s been so long since someone has called her that, so long since she’s been without Red, the one person who knows everything, that for a moment, she doesn’t hear the rest of his question. “She’s…” Snow pauses, wanting to rush into an explanation about Red and her abilities and how gorgeous she looks in the dead of night, running through a field with nothing stretched out before her but forest. It’s not her secret to tell, though, so she kicks at the dirt and tries to think of something else to say. “She’s my best friend,” she says simply.

James pauses, breathing heavily. “Well,” he says, exasperated. “How did you meet?”

Snow smiles widely for the first time since she awoke in this dusty cell. “She caught me stealing eggs, from her chicken coop.”

James smiles lopsidedly and takes a seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “And she became your best friend. How does that happen?”

Snow launches into the story and it only fuels her desire to get back to the cabin in the woods that much more.

*

Snow dreams of red, the color. She dreams of red banners and red cloaks and red blood splattered across white snow and wakes with a scream lodged in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

She dreams of Red, the girl, too. She dreams of finding the cabin in the woods, deserted and abandoned, with a note pinned to the door from a traveler passing through, to thank the owner for the place to sleep. She dreams of finding the cabin empty and in her dreams, she stands on the sagging front porch, spinning wildly in circles, shouting Red’s name. She dreams that a nearby villager tells her of the wolf that stalked their village and how they put it down and buried it out near the cabin, at the edge of the clearing, where it’s spirit could protect the village.

Those nights, she wakes with her own scream echoing off the stone walls and tears streaming down her face.

*

A month passes.

She keeps track by making marks in the corner near the window, scratching them into the stone with her fingernail. She marks it by the meals the guards bring and counts by the days that they continue to taunt her. She just hadn’t thought it would take this long. She thought it might be a week, at most.

But, no. A whole month. She doesn’t sleep during the night when she realizes it’s been a month, staying awake and at the window instead, listening for the distant echo of a howl. She wonders if too much time has passed, if the scent has been gone too long for Red to follow.

It’s wolfstime, Snow can feel it in her bones, and she worries. She worries that Red is alone for the first time since she realized the truth. She worries that no one will be there to put Red to bed as the exhaustion from a night of running kicks in. She worries that Red doesn’t have a bed at all; that maybe when Snow didn’t return, Red didn’t stay either.

“Mary,” James croaks, his voice heavy with sleep. “What is it?”

“We have to get out, James.” Snow doesn’t turn from the window. “I need to get back to her.”

She hears him moving around and doesn’t start when a hand lands gently on her shoulder. “We will. We will get you back to her.”

When he guides her back to the straw mats in the corner, she lets him, laying down on one but turning so that she can still see the moonlight through the window.

She needs to get back to Red and she’s not going to wait any longer.

*

They make a plan. It’s not Snow’s best work and it requires more luck than she’s comfortable with, but it’s a plan. The guards are still taunting her, still coming by to poke fun, but she decides to stop waiting and use them. When they get too close, she’ll incapacitate them, by any means. Her arms are thin and long enough that if they fall close enough to the bars, she can reach for the keys. From there, they will free themselves, steal the guard’s weaponry and sprint for the edge of the forest before their legs give out.

James seems unconvinced but when Snow demands he come up with a plan of his own, he stays quiet.

“That’s what I thought,” Snow mutters under her breath. James has the decency to look away and busy himself. “Now, let’s go over it one more time.”

*

It’s the middle of the second month before the pieces fall into place. The right guards are on the night watch and she’s been eating the food they leave her, so she feels her strength returning. Just before the sun is completely gone from the sky, the guards switch posts and the ones she’s lying in wait for come by the cell to call at her and tease her.

Snow hides in the shadows, pressing herself against the stone walls and tightly as she can. James lies prone in the middle of the cell, his chest barely rising at all. She will admit that he plays dead adeptly.

The guards round the corner, laughing loudly at each other, their swords clinking against their armor. She hears them come to a stop and that silent moment before their confusion sets in.

“Hey, get up!” one shouts at James. She hears one rattle the bars. “Get up, I said.” They go quiet before demanding James get up one last time and then Snow hears them begin to panic. “Where’s the girl? Did she do this? Wake up!”

Snow figures now is good a time as any. With a loud cry, she throws herself towards the front of the cell, grabbing one guard by his chest plate and slamming him headfirst into the bars. James is on his feet, doing the same to the other guard. They both fall to the ground, dazed, but not out. Her arm muscles are burning, but she reaches for the key, hanging just a little out of reach. With one final cry, she catches the ring on the tips of her fingers, pulling them towards her victoriously.

“Good work,” James says. Snow risks a glance at him and sees that he is beaming, the light reflecting off his eyes and his smile broad. She wonders how a man like him slayed an actual dragon.

Fumbling with the keys, her panic growing as the guards on the ground start to groan, Snow finds the right one, turning it furiously in the latch. It pops open with a loud squeak.

“Come on, come on,” she beckons James. As they pass the guards, she kicks their helmets swiftly and their groans cease immediately. “Here.” She hands James a broadsword and he makes a few quick slashing motions, nodding his approval.

She takes a longer sword off the other guard, testing it’s weight in her hand. It’s been a while since she held a sword in combat and it feels strange. She’s so used to bow and arrows, but she will take what she can get for now. Taking the sheath, she loops it around her waist and holds the sword in front of her, taking cautious steps down the hall. James follows, his footfalls heavier than Snow would like.

They get to the end of the hallway and wait at the bottom of the stairs. There is no loud bell ringing, signaling the escape of a prisoner, just the quiet of the night. Snow nods in the direction of the stairs and they take them one at a time until they are at the top and out in the open air of the courtyard. Snow stops for a moment to take a deep breath, her lungs burning at the rush of the cool, dust-free air. James claps a hand down on her shoulder, getting her attention, and nods towards the castle’s gate doors. Snow had planned for this too. The guard station at the base of the gate would be easy enough to get through if they could take out the two or three guards assigned to tonight’s post. She motions towards James to watch her back and creeps towards the station.

Peeking into the small hut, she grins widely: one man. Easy enough. She even lets James take him out, mildly impressed that his actual sword skills aren’t as bad as his shadowplay.

Snow turns to congratulate him and feels her heart leap into her throat. James sees the look on her face and whirls, his sword up.

“It took you longer than I expected,” Lancelot says, his deep voice booming in the small hut. “I imagined you would break out much sooner.”

Snow straightens up, her sword at her side. “You won’t stop us.”

Lancelot merely stares back at her, his face unreadable. “I was a Knight of the Round Table, once,” he says. It catches Snow off guard. “We believed in honor and loyalty. We had a code.” He drops a bag she didn’t notice he was holding, kicking it towards her. “I know who you are, child.”

Snow freezes, her grip tightening on her sword. She swallows hard and shakes her head. “My name is Ma-“

Lancelot’s mouth twitches in a smile. “I know who you are, Snow White.”

James looks back at her over his shoulder, his eyes wide. “You’re a princess?”

Snow shakes her head harder. “No,” she spits out. “No. My name is Mary.”

“You are Snow White, the stepdaughter of the Queen, wanted for murder and treason,” Lancelot continues loudly. “And when King George finds out, he will no doubt turn you over to the Queen in exchange for the reward that comes with your life.”

Snow takes a step back, feeling for the first time like she’s caged up. She got so far, she was so close to getting back to Red.

“You’re a princess,” James repeats in awe.

Lancelot keeps talking over him. “But I was once a Knight of the Round Table,” he says, “and during my time, I made a promise to King Leopold that I was never able to uphold, due to his passing.” Snow’s heart aches at the mention of her father. “And since I cannot repay his favor, I shall grant you one.”

Snow looks down at the bag near his feet and sees her cloak and arrows spilling out from the heavy burlap. “My things,” she breathes out. “I don’t understand.”

“My debt is clear,” he says. “I will give you the night to get a head start. I suggest you split up.”

Before she can ask again, Lancelot spins on his heel and slips back out into the night, leaving James staring at her in wonder.

“He let us go,” he says, exhaling noisily.

“Yes,” Snow says just as in awe. She shakes her head and straightens up. “He only gave us the night. We have to go.” She hands James’ her sword and he puts down the broadsword. She pulls out her cloak and throws it over her shoulders, looping her bow around her elbow and her arrows across her back. She feels like herself again and her confidence surges. “Come on, James. We’re going home.”

*

Traveling by night is hard, but Snow knows the woods. She doesn’t know these woods, per say, but Red taught her enough that she can tell which trees to follow and which bushes to stay away from. James follows obediently, stepping where she steps and ducking where she does.

When they get to the fork in the road about a half-day’s journey from King George’s castle, she turns back to him.  “This is it,” she says.

James looks down both roads. “I guess it is. Snow White,” he adds, smiling cheekily. “It was an honor, m’lady.”

Snow punches him in the arm. “You spent a whole month in the same cell as me. Don’t start getting all charming on me now.”

James nods, grinning. He bows once more anyway and takes a few steps down his road. “Tell Red I said hello for me.”

Snow smiles. “And tell your mother the same.” She turns and starts to head down the road that will take her back to Red and their cabin. “Hey, James,” she yells at his retreating back. “Maybe I’ll see you again some time, yeah?”

“I’ll find you,” James promises, bowing once more before he takes off down the road again.

Snow doesn’t watch him disappear down the road. She turns and she runs.

*

A few hours later, panting and sweating under the weight of her cloak, Snow breaks through the clearing surrounding the cabin. It looks different or maybe the cabin she dreamed about was something else. Snow sticks to the trees as she circle the cabin. The porch doesn’t sag any longer and there are windows, four that she can count. A door on the front of the building is propped open. Two roughly crafted rocking chairs sit on one side of the porch and there are flowers in the windowbeds.

It looks like a home.

Snow hears the rustle of leaves behind her and turns, reaching for a sword she doesn’t have anymore.

“Snow?”

Snow blinks up at Red standing high over her, a spear in hand, pulled back and poised to throw.

“Snow,” Red breathes out, a smile washing over her face. Her arm drops a little, but the spear is still pointed at Snow.

“Uh, Red? The spear?”

Red looks at her hand, surprised, and drops it instantly, crossing the distance between them easily as she pulls Snow into a hug that makes Snow feel like her ribs are going to crack. “Snow,” Red repeats. “Oh, god, Snow. Where have you been?”

Snow pulls away, her hands going to Red’s shoulders, studying her. “I’m so sorry, Red. I’m so sorry.”

Red shakes her head, her eyes wet with tears. “No, don’t be sorry. You’re here. You came home.” She perks up. “Home! I finished the cabin. It still needs work but I tried as best I could to-”

Snow leans in, kissing Red firmly, her hands sliding from Red’s shoulders into the thick of her hair as she pulls Red closer. Red breaks the kiss, breathing softly against Snow’s cheek. “What took you so long?” Red asks. 

“I had to break out of prison,” Snow says, pulling Red’s mouth back down. “I had to get back to you. Back to our home.” She speaks in between kisses. “I’m sorry.”

Red laughs and hugs her tightly. “Let me show you around, then, and point out the things you can do to make up for all the work I had to do.”

Snow laughs and takes Red’s offered hand, lacing their fingers together tightly.

*

Red gives her a list of things she needs to do and Snow rolls her eyes at every one of them. No, she’s not going to tend to the flowers or plant a small garden by the west side of the cabin. But she will construct a bird feeder and she will thatch the roof.

And at night, just as the sun starts to set, she’ll sit in her rocking chair outside on the porch and she’ll wait to hear the howl that tells her Red has taken off into the night.

She waits up all night to make sure she’s there when Red comes home.


End file.
